1. First and foremost, that self-actualization magically occurs in a moment of soulful contemplation is a naive, romantic ideal best left to hippie kooks that are unlike me in every way (except for my tarot reading, meditating, use of herbs and oils as natural remedies, and impending sweat lodge ceremony…just a few of the exceptions). This moment of realization hit home when my hyper-logical, complimentary other half asked,
“Did you have fun?”
To which I indignantly replied, “I didn’t find what I was looking for.”
“What were you looking for?”
“And what is that?”
“I’m not really sure, as I did not find it.”
“How can you know you didn’t find it if you don’t know what it is?”
“I don’t know. I think you’re supposed to feel it or something.”
“Have you ever seen the double rainbow guy on YouTube? You’re running the risk of sounding like that guy.”
“But that’s the moment of awe I wanted.”
“I guess we could get some ecstasy or something.”
We just went and got some Splash Cafe clam chowder instead. It was pretty eye-opening.
2. A realization that stemmed directly from this experience is that I take myself too damn serious. For evidence, see this post which preceded my epic fail.
3. It’s really easy to lose $40 you haphazardly shoved into your back pocket when you’re repeatedly taking out your phone to take pictures of rocks. Not to brag or anything (which means I’m about to brag), I did so well in my geology class in junior college that I was asked to be an aide. Who gets asked to be an aide for geology?! This chick. You may think rocks are boring, but I think they’re cool. And just to spite those of you who think they’re boring, I am posting the $40 worth of rock pics in the middle of this post (though I hope you don’t stop reading to spite me!–skip them if they really bother you that much. Jeez).
4. I never noticed how much death is at the beach. Dead crabs, dead kelp, dead sea weeds, dead little beach scarabs, and some inert, clear gelatinous glob that I suspect may have been a jelly fish.
This may be a pessimistic view of things but since my self-actualization let down (i.e. no double rainbow moment), I’ve vowed to be more honest with myself and more realistic. Yes, there were people burying their laughing children in the sand and balls being thrown to labs bounding out into the waves, but there was also some freak beach breed of fly everywhere (these were so thick on the rock crevices and kelp carcasses that when they disbanded, I thought it was a plague of locusts. I checked my skin though–no boils) and there was a fucking bed made up in one of the rock caves. So yeah, realism. Sometimes it messes up your pretty picture of the way life is.
On that note, this post would not be an accurate representation of my visit to the beach unless I include the destruction that hath been wreaked upon it.
Needless to say, after arriving, I had no more of the deep thoughts I had on the trip there. It’s like my brain closed down and my soul clammed up (ha). I kept waiting for the sky to open and for Squanto to step out and lead me to a spring of enlightenment (it’s okay, I’m like 1/16th Native American). Sometimes the journey is more important than the destination–yeah, I totally get that now.